


A New Beginning

by ProfessorBanks



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Daenerys never dies, Dark Jon Snow, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/confort, Jealousy, depressed Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-11
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2020-04-24 13:34:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19174327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorBanks/pseuds/ProfessorBanks
Summary: Two years after Daenerys sends Jon home after he tries and fails to kill her, she informs him that he has a two year old daughter that wants to meet him. Will they find their way back to each other?





	A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is based off of the picture I’ll link in the story. I hope you enjoy it.
> 
>  
> 
> This is a Jon/Daenerys centric Fanfic. Yes, Daario is here. Yes, him and dany have hooked up. Yes, he’s been there for her. Will they be the ending couple? No. Will I do Jon dirty just because canon Jon killed dany? No. Will this story be angst filled? Yes. If you can’t handle that then just leave cause this is my story and my account. If you want to tell me what to do with my story then write your own. I really don’t give a fuck about your opinion when it comes to something I want to write. Cause at the end of the day, when you done typing that fuck ass comment, Imma still post the next chapter that’ll make you even madder. 
> 
>  
> 
> Y’all want the stories to be so boring. If we have it y’all way Jonerys writers would just be writing fluff and no angst at all.

<https://twitter.com/kitxdany/status/1128946482189672454?s=21>

 

She balled the dozenth piece of paper up and started at a new one as she dipped her pen in ink. She ignored him and tried to think of the right words to inform her nephew that he is being summoned for his child’s (one he doesn’t know exists) third name day. 

 

 

 

 

“You don’t have to do this if you do not wish”, Daario crouched down beside her chair, his naked shaft on full display. 

 

 

 

 

“Why are you doing this again? I’m almost certain she thinks I’m her father. Why disturb that”, he continued.

 

 

 

 

Her patience ran out at the words. She threw the pen and banged her balled fists to the table. “I have to do this. Casseana deserves to know her father, as does he her. No matter what transpired between he and I, he deserves that. And I assure you, she doesn’t think you are, because why would she lay in my arms the very other night and ask me why doesn’t she have a papa? Why doesn’t mama have a king? Like the other Queens.”

 

 

 

 

He ran a hand threw his hair. “After two years, why now? Why all of a sudden do you want them to have a relationship? Why does it matter?”

 

 

 

 

“I’ve kept him from her long enough. Its time. Her third nameday is coming up, and I intend for them to have a relationship before her memories start to stick.” 

 

 

 

 

He eyed her warily, looking as if he tried to choke his next words to roll off of his tongue. “Is that”, he trailed off, “all you intend? Or do you foresee more?” 

 

 

 

 

“Although, it is no concern of you, no, I do not.” Her next words would cut deep. “Jon doesn’t want a relationship with me. His damn honor won’t allow him. It’s the thing I hate and love the most about him”, for a moment she forgot who she was talking to, because the sad, wistful smile that graced her face disappeared as she looked at the murderous gaze severed into Daario Naharis’ features. He stood, the rigid muscles of his body flexing as he slowly backed away from her.

 

 

 

She sighed. Her hair fell in waves around her, the length of the silky, silver curls to her waist. The tie of her robe had worked its way undone, just slightly to the point where the porcelain skin of her chest was exposed. “I didn’t have a father or mother growing up, as you know”, she stood from the chair and folded her arms. “I didn’t have love and I didn’t have a home. With that being said, I want my daughter to have all the love she can get. I want her to know what it feels like to have your mother and father’s love. I want her to know what it feels like to have a family.”

 

 

 

He dropped his head. “What am I?”

 

 

 

Sometimes Daenerys would forget that Daario himself didn’t know what it felt like to have love. His cocky demeanor and confidence blinding to that fact. 

 

 

 

She slowly approached him, her small hands grabbing his calloused one, giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are my dearest friend. The only friend I have left”, she admitted airily, “but you are also my family. The rest are all dead. My Mother and Brothers. Missandei, Jorah, Irri, Rakharo. All of them. I have Grey, but he is so very far. Naath is over a million miles away and I miss him every minute. So, yes, you are family, but she still needs her father.” 

 

 

 

I needed him too,  she thought,  but he did not need me as much as I needed him. 

 

 

 

She shook her head as if that would shake the thoughts away. “Casseana is such a beautiful, bright child. Her giggles fill the void of this forsaken kingdom. Her smiles are the only thing that keep me going. She deserves everything the world has to offer, and I intend to give it to her. When she requests the wildest things, I can do nothing but oblige because it would kill me to say no. And she has requested this. If you can’t handle that, my friend, I urge you to accommodate or relocate.” She stood on her tip toes to press a light kiss to his bearded cheek. 

 

 

 

Just give me a reason, some kind of sign, she had pleaded with all the gods she didn’t believe in. The wars had left her bitter, angry, and broken. 

 

 

 

Everyone was always there to take from her, but never to give. No, never to give. 

 

 

 

Her brother took her innocence. Doreah took her trust. Jon took her love. 

 

 

 

First Viserion. She had dealt with that, she had coped with that, but then Jorah. Her dearest and oldest and most loyal friend. He died protecting her, he died in her arms. She can still remember the way he whispered her name as his breaths became shallow. And Gods, then Missandei. Her dear, dear Missandei. Cersei Lannister had her vile, monstrous thing of a man behead her at the top of the gates of Kings Landing. The way her head tumbled to the ground and her body not too long after was forever etched in Dany’s mind. And Rhaegal, the dragon she named after her brother. 

 

 

 

Everybody and everything always left her. 

 

 

 

 

Through every trail and tribulation, she always remained, she often found herself wondering why. Why was she always forced to stay and be in utter pain? It seemed like everything was in cadence to make her go mad. Like Her long dead advisors thought her to be. No, she wasn’t mad, and you could - like they did -try to give it all those names it didn’t deserve, when in the end, it was just grief. She stopped eating. Varys was plotting against her. She didn’t know how, but what more obvious way was there than poison? So, she didn’t eat. She started crying more, black rings developed around her eyes. 

 

 

 

And that day, in Kings Landing. 

 

 

 

When the bells ring, Cersei has surrendered, Tyrion told her. And the bells did ring, which only infuriated her more. She burned thousands that day. Even herself. 

 

 

Tyrion betrayed her. He freed his brother. He would hang. Jon went to see Tyrion. Tyrion tried to convince Jon to kill her. He succeeded. He always had a way with words. That is why Daenerys had the unsullied listen to their conversation. Right before Jon entered the throne room, Greyworm had just left from informing her of the information that turned what was left of her heart cold. 

 

 

 

Jon would try to kill her, that day. She had hoped — prayed that he’d had a change of heart before he came to her, but she knew he didn’t as the unsullied rushed in and pulled him away, his lips untangling from hers, breaking their kiss. 

 

 

 

 

He broke into tears. “Please, just kill me. I have nothing in this world to live for. It has only ever brought me pain.”

 

 

 

 

She came to stand before him. Hands cupping his face. “No, I will not kill you. I can’t. You’ve betrayed me. I knew you would. Everyone does.” She backed away. Face going into stone. “Take him away. Take him back home.” 

 

 

 

 

Casseana was her sign, her reason. And she knew, ever since she first laid eyes on her that she would give anything to have her never know what it felt like to know pain better than happiness. And that was the reason she would put her pride to the side, and allow Jon in her daughters life. Casseana deserved to choose her own path.

 

 

The knock on the door pulled her from her thoughts. 

 

 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Daenerys.”

 

 

 

Daenerys waited until Daario dressed to open the door. She padded to the door and opened it, already knowing who stood on the other side. The Dothraki handmaiden placed sleeping Casseana in Daenerys’ waiting arms, the two year old’s fluffy cheeks tucking themselves in the crook of Daenerys’ neck as she protested to being moved. Daenerys shushed her daughter back to sleep. Daario slipped out after placing a kiss to the small child’s forehead. 

 

 

 

“She’s had a long day, My Queen”, the handmaiden informed with a small smile. 

 

 

 

“Yes, I can tell. Have a nice night, iqqi”. 

 

 

 

Daenerys heard the door close with a thud as she pulled the covers back, gently laying Casseana on her pillow. She brushed back her downy, silvery hair at her hairline. She had Daenerys’ eyes and hair, but she had Jons lips and face. She was the spitting image of her father, and sometimes, Daenerys couldn’t tell if she loved or resented that. Often, when Casseana smiled, she smiled that rare smiled Jon Snow would give her and her only. That smile he gave her on that boat, at that waterfall. It was arduous, to look at the spitting image of the man who broke her heart, but to love that image so much to the point where she savored the glimpses when she saw Jon in her. 

 

 

The longer she gazed at her daughter, the more sure she became of her decision to summon Jon Snow. She knew what to write, at that point. 

 

—

 

 

You’ve betrayed me. I knew you would. Everyone does. She smiled, a very sad smile. Take him away, she said so softly. Take him back home. 

 

 

 

Jon jolted awake, chest heaving, the sun coming from the window to his scar ridden chest. He had a bad dream, the dream he dreamed every night. The dream that made him rarely sleep because he feared he’d dream the dream. 

 

 

 

He hated the sight of his bed. He loathed coming back to it every night after looking after matters he never cared for nor wanted to see to. 

 

 

 

Jon pulled the covers back, off of his body. He threw his legs over the edge. His warm feet contrasting with the cold stone of the floor. He dressed, throwing his cloak over his back as he made his way to his office. 

 

 

 

 

As expected, Sansa was waiting for him there. Like she did every day. He came to stand by his chair, the one she was occupying. He scowled at her. Jon knew Sansa wanted more than anything to be queen. She had betrayed him in the hopes of that outcome. How could he not know? 

 

 

 

And in a lot of ways, she ran Winterfell. He didn’t care enough to put forth an effort to truly rule. So, she took his stead. His decisions were final, she knew that, so she knew to get up and she knew how far to push him. 

 

 

 

Jon sat with a huff. He watched as Sansa went to sit in the chair in front of his desk. 

 

 

 

“You have four letters”, she said as she handed him one from her seat. “This one is from house Karstark.”

 

 

 

 

He quickly broke the seal and skimmed through the words. “They need more grain. And what exactly do they think I can do about that” he rumbled. 

 

 

 

 

“You are the warden of the north. You could easily request some from the cro-“ she cut her words at his menacing gaze. Albeit, she continued. “You could easily request from the crown. It is her duty to aid us.”

 

 

 

 

“It is her duty to do nothing”, he roared. Sansa flinched. He stood quickly, chair going back in a loud scrap and he splayed his hands on the desk. “You plotted and schemed to dethrone her and you’re lucky to still have your head. She owes me or you nothing. She owes the north nothing. She gave the north her dragons and her armies. She has given enough. Fuck the Karstarks. I’d let them starve before I ask anything of her”, he whispered menacingly to her the last sentence. 

 

 

 

 

 

“When will you admit that I was right about her. She burned Kings Landing to the ground. She leveled a city and the people with it. Children, Jon. Children. Does your love for her blind you so?” She sounded as if she was trying to convince herself that she was right to betray his trust. 

 

 

 

 

 

“If my love for her blinded me so I would still be by her side and not arguing with you over shit I couldn’t care less about.”

 

 

 

 

“Why are you even here then, Jon”, she derided with a shake of her head. 

 

 

 

 

 

“You’d like that wouldn’t you? If I left and the position I now hold was just left open? Well, let me tell you, dear cousin, I’d rather be miserable than let you get your hands on any throne. Now, the other letters are from?”

 

 

 

 

 

“Arya”, she said flatly. She handed him the letter but he had no interest as of now. The remaining letters would probably cause an even more file mood and word from her would probably be the only thing that brought a smile to his face the entire day. He sat it to the side and motioned for the others. 

 

 

 

 

 

“Castle black.” 

 

 

 

 

 

He rolled the letter back up as he said, “they have room for more men. Have we come across any revers or rapers or thieves?” 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yes. Five are currently in the cells.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Have them on the road to castle black first thing tomorrow.”

 

 

 

 

He waited for her to hand him the last letter, but she didn’t. She stared down at it in her lap before meeting his eyes once more. Nervousness lacing her features. 

 

 

 

 

“What is it”, he questioned. Patience running out. 

 

 

 

She didn’t answer and hesitantly handed him the letter. 

 

 

 

 

 

It had House Targaryen’s sigil stamped on it and he now understood her nervousness. But he wasn’t nervous. Just curious. If the letter said that the queen was marching north to have finally have his head for his treasonous act, then he’d embrace it. Death would be a warm blanket to his suffering. His heart palpated as he read every word of the evasive letter. 

 

 

 

You’re daughter requests your presence. 

 

 

— Queen Daenerys 

 

 

The letter fell from his hands as if it was raging fire. He was stunned. He didn’t know what to say and blood rushed to his ears, causing him to fail to hear whatever it was Sansa was saying to him. When he failed to answer, she took the letter to see for herself what had him so stunned. He heard her small gasp. 

 

 

 

“She says you have a daughter. And she wants to see you.”, he can tell she doesn’t believe it by her tone. He doesn’t either. 

 

 

 

 

 

“Yes”, he said. Jon suddenly felt light headed. Tears slipped down his face. He didn’t even know why. “I have to go”, he informed her as he harshly wiped the tears from his cheeks. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“No, wait! What if it’s just a trick to get you to Kings Landing and Murder you in cold blood”, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way to the door. The letter had fell to the floor in her haste. 

 

 

 

 

“If she wanted to murder me she would have two years ago when I attempted to murder her in cold blood!”, he roared. “It’s final. I’m going to Kings Landing. If she murders me, then so be it. I’ll be out of my misery, finally”, he seethed, face inches from hers. She flinched, for the second time that day. He was becoming something he hated, something they accused of her being. Mad. 

 

 

 

 

 

Sansa grabbed his arm, forcing him to face her. “What of your family? What of your duty to house Stark? To Winterfell?”

 

 

 

 

“If that letter holds true then I have a daughter in this world, one that would mean more to than anyone or anything, no matter if I’ve never even layed my eyes upon her. I’ve given everything I’ve ever had to this world. For one cause or another. I’ve never taken anything for myself, and you know this most of all, but here you stand before me, still asking me to give and give but never asking if I need. That’s all the world’s ever done to me, take. It took Daenerys. The only thing I’ve ever truly wanted. And I tried to murder her, for you, for the pieces of shit in Kings Landing. Well this time, I say no more. I will be selfish for once, I will take something for myself”, he opened the door, more forcefully than required. 

 

—

 

He hand been traveling for weeks now. Only stopping to get two to three hours of rest and feed his horse. And the closer he got to Kings Landing, to Daenerys, to his Daughter, he couldn’t believe it was the truth. 

 

 

How was it even possible? She had told him that she couldn’t have children. That the witch who murdered her husband and son casted a curse over her womb, bewitching her from ever growing with a child. His child. At least, he thought. When he had last saw her, she was so thin and frail and  broken.  Was her body even physically capable of carrying a child? When had his seed taken root? The last time they were intimate was the drunken night after the battle of dead had been won and all he wanted do was drown in her and forget that he was the biggest secret the realm had kept for years. He wanted to forget that he was fucking his aunt five ways till Sunday. He wanted to forget how empowering it felt when he made her scream his name and come undone under him. He spilled his seed inside of her that night, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about her growing fat with his child as he watched her orgasm rack through her body with hooded lids. Had he done it then? Had he gotten her pregnant with his child and left to her fend through such a dire situation alone? The sentiment was like a knife to his heart and he winced as his horse stepped over a rock. ‘Cause the war surely made sure she had no one left, but her crown. 

 

 

 

 

He had not let himself think of her, regret and heartache too troublesome to even make a coherent thought. The only times he’d think of the silvered haired queen was in his dreams, where he couldn’t control what happened. Yes, in his dreams is where they’d become entangled in each other’s embraces like they once used to, before he found out that he was fucking his aunt. Before he found out that they were blood. 

 

 

 

And once he woke, once he’d open his eyes to the dark night glow of his chambers, alone, manhood as stiff as wood, shame would cloak him. Shame that he could feel such desire for his own Father’s sister. How could he still feel such a way towards her when he knew the truth? 

 

 

Now, he’d fathered a child with his fathers sister. 

 

 

A fly settled on his nose, causing a tickling sensation. Was he that dirty and smelly? There was a river just ahead of him. And he’d have to cross it to get to the other side. He was only a couple hours from Kings Landing he presumed, and he very well couldn’t meet his daughter smelling so horrific. He took off all his clothes and stepped into the cold water. After he’d washed him, getting the dirt and grim out of his hair and finger nails, he washed him clothes. He decided he’d stay the night, and continue on at first light. If he was being honest, he was nervous about meeting his daughter, the few hours gave him time to gather his thoughts. He didn’t even know her name. How could he not be nervous? He didn’t know how to be a father, only had Ned’s example. Would that be enough? 

 

 

 

He made camp. He slept fitfully. The little he did get was just rim sleeping. His thoughts very much still cluttering his mind. Dawn came quick enough. He was back on the road as soon as it did. 

 

 

 

 

Kings Landing was anew. The hundreds of buildings Daenerys destroyed were rebuilt. The city still smelt like shit, Jon thought. He always hated the capital, even before it swallowed his family. The events that happened the last he was here, sealed the deal indefinitely. 

 

 

 

 

When he got to the keep, he had been instructed to wait inside the throne room. His palms itched. Uncertainty racking over his body. He was scared to see Daenerys again. Not many things scared him. The Night king didn’t scare him. Death didn’t scare him. Being burnt alive didn’t scare him. But this did. Meeting his Daughter scared him beyond measure. 

 

 

 

 

The unsullied stood at attention as doors to the far right suddenly opened. 

 

 

Daenerys was the first to catch his eyes. She still beautiful, possibly even more. Her hair hung loose it, made her look younger. When they were together, she only ever wore her hair down in her chambers. He wondered what changed that. Jon wore his emotions on his face, which happened to be a thousand coursing through him at once, but Daenerys’ face was impassive as ever as she stared him down. It angered him that he couldn’t tell what she thought to see him again. His attention turned to the small child to left when she bent, her silk dress bunching up at the ends. They were matching, her and the child. They both had on lilac dress,but Daenerys’ hung off her shoulders and the child’s attire styled to be more appropriate. There was a tall man to the right Daenerys, just behind her. 

 

 

 

 

This must be my child, he thought. She looks just like Daenerys. Her eyes, her hair, her everything. 

 

 

 

Jon watched as Daenerys whispered something in the little girls ear. The little girl turned to him then, her purple eyes shining with happiness. Daenerys lightly nudged her forward and she began to run in his direction. Her legs were so chubby, just as her arms, it was the most adorable thing he’s ever saw and he thought his heart would burst with happiness. He had not felt such a way in a long time. Since at the waterfall with Daenerys. And that was so long ago. 

 

 

When she finally reached him, “Hi, papa”, it came out in a giggle. His legs gave out under him at the two words and as soon as his knees hit the stone, she threw her arms around his neck. He let out a breath he had been holding for years. 

 


End file.
